


Grecian Warrior-Companions

by ghostdreaming



Series: The God of Cunoval Wood [3]
Category: The Eagle | The Eagle of the Ninth (2011), The Eagle | The Eagle of the Ninth - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate History, Alternate Reality, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Greek Mythology, Ancient Britin, Ancient Greek Shrines on the British Islands, Ancient Rome, Captive Marcus, Esca and Marcus are becoming friends!, Esca doesn't see himself as a god, Esca is a god, Greek Mythology - Freeform, M/M, Marcus has what in his bloodline?, Marcus is just biding his time, Mythical Beings & Creatures, Not Beta Read, Pagan Gods, Slave Marcus, ancient aliens - Freeform, and Hercules/Iolaus, but they don't know it, but won't admit it!, i still can't tag, mention of Alexander/Hepheastion, mention of The Sacred Band of Thebes, more Threats of Mutilation!, not edited, or so he tells himself, pure human may not really exist here, so he's not entirely lying, studying Ancient Greece, the kind with sex, they also lust for eachother, warrior pair-bonds
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-19
Updated: 2015-12-30
Packaged: 2018-03-24 23:46:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,767
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3788746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghostdreaming/pseuds/ghostdreaming
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Marcus heals while in the care, and under the protection, of Esca. But trouble needs only a opportunity.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I got this out as fast as I could!

The small fort was calm. From inside the walls a person would need to look closely and know what right things to look for to see any evidence of the hostile change in command over a week ago. The most visible notable difference was how no Roman uniforms were to be seen on the guards who patrolled the timber walls. Instead the new costumes were a vast complicated sea of diversity made up of uncountable native cultural identity influences that had spanned through the centuries from far back in the most distant times of misty and immortal pasts and embellished with the inflow gains of the floods of foreign trading that the peoples of the lands prospered at.

"- the attempt to poison the emperor so near after the time when his closest companion was stricken with a potentially fatal illness speaks strongly of a possible connection between the two events." Breezes tugged at the historical documentation, that had sparked off this latest discussion absorbing the attentions of the two very dissimilar appearing men seated off on their own and insolated from the busy activities of the rest of the out-post, forcing them to constantly have to slap the parchment down lest it blow away.The centurion had learned over the last days that the small Briton that was almost entirely the only company he had, other than the pup, could be a pleasant and interesting conversationalist with an intelligence that put to shame many of the high-ranking and classed notables that Marcus had before encountered in more civilized social gatherings over the years, and he found himself almost humiliatingly eager and fascinated by the insights and new thoughts this strange new conversationalist brought forth.

The chill of night had grown more pronounced and had also started to come earlier in the evenings and linger longer through the mornings but afternoons were still usually warm enough for Marcus to gain allowance to leave his rooms and comfortably sit out, with a few woven blanket to keep his recovering leg protected, and enjoy what sunlight could still be had in the small courtyard. The small wolf pup, after having quickly tired himself exploring the length and width of the sheltered space with those small infant limbs, was napping insolently on top the corner of a trailing blanket only bestirring now and then to growl at a passer-by. Though still too small and young to fight the proudly fierce creature non- the- less had the mindless bravery to issue challenges at even the great war horses and the enormous canines that themselves rivaled small horses in size, such as the bulking mastiffs, or in hight, like the native wire-haired deerhounds/ wolfhounds who towered so easily over the similarly shaped but smoother-furred greyhounds imported from Marcus's homelands.

" You side with the claim that General Hepheastion was poisoned?" Esca was still a mystery. The discovery that the man could speak and, with those that had written words, also read not only the individual languages of his home but also Greek and Latin was a revelation. That the cut of his hair held traces of being the short ragged clip of a Roman slave said much, most of it contradictory, about the likely reasons Marcus had been given into that particular man's keeping.

 "The desert crossing had been enough a trial to weaken even the strongest and healthiest of warriors. If those who had who had undermined the planned support system for the trek had not been discovered in time to restock the needed supplies the journey would have been a disaster. No, the deadly fever was no isolated incident and was unsurprising to have it spreading through the ranks after such an undertaking." The only change made to Marcus' quarters since his wounding was the addition of Esca's presence and the primitive, and assertively entirely non-Roman, pallet on which he slept. He neither claimed nor confiscated any of his captive's material belongings. And neither forbid or denied Marcus his religious observances or interfered with the performing of them though his rejection of the Romans' gods was unhidden. He would simply remain watchfully silent and still in an out of the way corner, with no reaction other than slight irritation during the times the incense became to strong for his unacustumed senses, while Marcus honored the divine heroes of old or prayed to Mithras. Though at times Marcus shamefully found himself more inclined to surcoming to the draw of focusing the greater portions of his attention on his quietly compelling watcher than to his holy absolutions. But the mistake in his open trust to the man Cradoc was still a fresh and stinging lesson that he had no wish to either repeat or mimic.

" Yes. But if illness was already doing the task for the consperitors they had no need to sully their hands in acting themselves. Until the man begain to recover..."

" Which he did." Marcus was freely allowed his own clothing to wear. His armor had been cleaned and repaired before being returned to it's stand. His weapons were also stored there in plain sight...only Marcus' word of honor and current physical ailment kept him from attempting an attack on his solitary overseer.... Esca had claimed a history of having been a member of one of the tribes of Britainions that had been destroyed in the Roman march of conquest and to have been a friend of the native forest god Cunoval. Yet, and praises be to the gods who made this so, was no druid or priest with declarations of divine knowledge and favor. He had also gave his word that Marcus would be allowed to visit his captured soldiers and see for himself they were being cared for before they were deported back to Rome. He knew that as a real man, and one of glorious Rome at that, he should have been demanding to have them allowed to come to him instead. Yet the reluctant concern in those sky colored eyes whenever Marcus tried to push his limitations and the careful handling with which the bright-haired minder tended to aiding his failed body after such humiliations, that was a far separation from the hot anger and cold disgust he spat like viper poison when faced with Marcus' temper, had the far larger man feeling as though he had been bespelled to be incapable of any will of his own when faced with the other's will and found himself obediently submitting even before he was aware of surrendering.....

"Yes-." Esca knew how to seek out and find the true fate of the missing Ninth Legion. Admitted to having no ranking in the warrior hierarchy he was traveling with yet he bore the air of one with authority and great confidence of his own well tested power. When not focused on seeing his prisoner nursed back to health he evidently was sought out for exulted duties such as riding out as a leader on hunts with tribal warriors like that one whey-faced savage that took every opportunity to glare at Marcus with murderous promise.

"Esca!" A small dark-haired and pale-skinned boy came running breathlessly from around the corner of the building cutting into their peaceful insolation with a sharp urgent cry. 


	2. Chapter 2

Listening to the adolescent selkie babble in breathless agitation Marcus was being made uneasily aware of just how difficult it was going to prove for him to be at all able to protect himself. By the very inability to have the most basic comprehending awareness of happening events around him due to the fact that he couldn't even understand the words being spoken around him added an additional taxing strain to matters of an already precarious position set with horrifying traps and pitfalls.

The slim graceful body that had been seated next to him slid off the bench with the fluidity of a smooth pouring of purest fine oil to crouch infront of the boy. Any Roman wealthy and with their women spoildly pampered enough to possess the quanteties and qualities of those kinds of dyed and patterned fabrics and worked valuable metals would never have dreamed of letting them do such a thing and risk harm coming to mar such precious material acquisitions that would realistically be difficult( and depending on an individual's circumstanses and the garments in question even impossible) to have replaced. Though only as passingly aware of the bewildering spectical that was the art of the fashions of the wealthy high and mighty as any other incomprehending onlooker dizzied by the rapid pace and extravagances of Roman women's showings of jewelry and hair-styles that was such a far contrast to the simplicity of the traditional (usually)single ring and standardized lone hair-cut worn by all Roman men. Marcus did in a sense have a portion of familiarity in that his heavy armor was of much higher worth than he himself. Yet these Britons, both men and women of every age, all wore what they did, crude or fine/ nearly-nothing or piled layers, with the sense that it was all as common to replace as the mud and clay some so freely applied to themselves. Esca very noticeably did not follow that custom and his well washed skin was exoticly pale even though tanned and tantalizingly freckled with the tiniest and lightest brown mesmerizing dappleings of scattered pin-pricked speckles that decorated as like a night sky. Though fewer, fainter, and farther scattered than the majority of the prickle-point patterning so beautifuly displayed amoung these light-haired peoples they were still evident enough to be tantalizing hints. The only marks on that lith body that had not been gifted by the gods as far as Marcus had seen had been a few faint typical mementos of living and battles as well as healed traces that told a tale of a past instance of forced captivity and some native patterns tattooed in blue ink. Small and light framed though he was Esca's beauty was all hard and male. Not even the native barbarian custom, that was frequently found common in many lands far distant from Rome, of possibly draping himself in the same excessive levels of quantaties of jewelry as their women also practiced could mute the power of his sever masculinity. Nearly every physical feature of the Britanian was in opposition of the ideals Marcus had grown up being taught to regard as the more appealing. Far too short and stringy to portray the tall broadness of the perfect Roman man. Yet none of the soft freshly budded loveliness of youthful appeal since Esca appeared to be of Marcus' age and therefore well past that prime. Nor did he have the slightest trace of the soft roundness considered to be a woman's charms. There was a hardness to him that made soft and weak the strengths of mountain walls. Small, savage, sharp, and spare yet he radiated life and vitality from his sparse body like a compacted and contained sun. His simple proximity heated Marcus' insides with a confusion that left him agitated and unsettled.

The sight of his enslaver's diminutive body down on his knees made Marcus' gut clench and a hot deep heavy hunger stir to wakefulness. This was a man who would make a exceptionally poor slave. Not all wild beasts were possible to tame. Firey spirits that could not be banked and dampened down to mellow domesticity always ended extinguished. Esca would never survive an existence beneath civilized yoke. Captivity would very quickly kill him. His was the kind to die if smothered. Yet Marcus felt also this need to make a effort to preserve this unique example if he could once the time comes. After he'd freed himself. After Rome put down this uprising and reestablished peace and order bringing progress and a future to this land that was lost since after the time of Great Alexander.  When it came to pass it would be the end of that feral life the only question would be whether death would take the Briton in battle, by his own hand to avoid capture, or by a too heavy hand of a slaver or master. Esca had shown a strange  caring for Marcus when he had no cause. Marcus could do not less than to show respect and acknowledgment to it and honoring him so in turn. Even if it meant spilling the life from that fine-boned body with his own hands so that the other would have the comfort of escaping through death. Just as Marcus wished for himself if does not find another way to escape back to Roman life.

"Marcus? Are you well? I asked if you wished to return to your rooms?" And just like that the smaller bodied man was at his side again. Savage face soft with gentle concern and glorious eyes intent. Marcus had never before regretted being Roman. He'd been saddened and horrified afterwards at the acts he and others had needed to go to in order to protect and preserve Roman lives and ways yet being Roman had always remained the only way to want to be. Not even his abduction changed that.....yet this one set of blue eyes had him contemplating possibilities of what could be and that might have been if he had but been born into another world- one not of Rome but of these lands.

"No, I would prefer to remain a while more in the sun." Neither his pride nor his dignity were looking forward to needing to be helped back to his rooms and he was even less inclined to relinquish his opportunity to enjoy this greater freedom for as long as he could.

"That is understandable. Stay within the garden you will not be troubled. I will return shortly." The sleeping puppy was was picked up in slim hands and resettled the little beast, along with the brought along supplies that would be again needed soon when the creature woke again hungry for his next feeding, where Marcus had the most comfortable ease of reach.

All during this the impaired Centurion not once even glanced in the direction of where he suspected the other Roman prisoners were most likely being held.

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry I've been so absentee about posting new chapters lately. My dad got really sick this year and then passed away. Add the ongoing aftermath of that with now having to go out and get a place of my own next spring( I live in a tourist town which means housing is either expensive or has the charms of a slum. You can guess which kind the average non- money skilled worker is more likely to get). I really have had this chapter 'almost done' for months but I just couldn't seem to finish it till now.
> 
> This part has some blunt, harsh, violent subject matter and modern taboos that were non- taboos for the culture referred to. Some of which can be called historic violence and non-(puritan dictated) modern moralities...In other words mention of bloody death games and people of cultures that leave their breasts bared...And f/f/f?+.

 

 

 All along the way from the center of the fort to the outlying huts evidence that the people of the land were taking back the territory could be clearly seen. Structures, that had been banished and entombed beneath the soil when the Roman swarms had overrun the countryside seeking to make all as theirs and theirs alone, were being unearthed and brought forth back into their proper places out to stand once again in the air and light of the open sky. Some of the Roman constructions were kept as it would have been wasteful otherwise when they were of worthwhile use that could benefit others as fully as they had the invaders that had crafted the works. Methods to heat water and dwelling places were always goo knowledge. Roman skills had a creativity of their own that deserved noting if only to know when and why to be wary of certain designs. Now the examples of Roman style and military mindset were adjusted into being simply additions to the carefully flowingly fitted together stonework, that had been weathering and weathered by the harsh biting and changeable climate since before the survivors of Atlantis and Mu had come to understand the true extent of how much had been forever lost to them, and all peoples, in the destruction of that worldwide war of nations. The art within the bathhouse was a treasure all its own. And Esca's charge had proven quite pleasing to bathe, the faint traces of water elemental and dryad in the tall man's bloodline took in energy and relief from the soothing liquid, it had been a long time since Esca had last enjoyed watching another heal and flourish in his care. No one would be askance if he stated he preferred that the Roman be healed and healthy in time for the sacrifice ( and they could wait till Marcus was made as well as he could be since it was also very far and would already be a long time till they were at the correct place for it). More concerningly was one storehouse that unfortunately was beginning to appear as though it might have need of...careful cleaning. 

 The boy had reported newcomers seeking to talk with Esca but not who or what they were. Only that some were strangers from other lands. And powerful. Not Roman then for they would have been recognized as such. And the nearest Roman creature of any significant power was still no nearer than the next foreigner controlled city over. Then too there was the Grecian pair...If they took offence and the Romans were able successfully plead for their aid...Esca would confront that challenge only when and if he had to and not poke at additional danger.

The new arrivals were easily located housed in a reconstructed roundhouse resurrected from it's Roman induced squalid shell on the outskirts of the restored village area, along with the low mounds and earthen ground designs and patternings that bordered it, where now a small collection of captive Romans tended to their chores under the watch of some Minoan warriors. Like the Romans these too had come from a much warmer climate before having sailed there and were not as accustomed to the wet chill of the lands as those like the Seal People. The wiser and more experienced among them had donned additional layers that would be discarded and returned to in increments as they trained their systems to endure the harsh weather without endangering their health. The young and prideful, as was commonly their way, meanwhile were attempting to overcome the cold air by stubborn determination.

One such warrior moved to intercept, nostrils flaring at the strange and threatening scent approaching them, only to pull up short as though at the end of a tether. Esca let a little more of his nature show through in a warning sign. Dark eyes going round and showing their whites the man jerked back like a bull confronted with a slaughter pen. The minotaur lineage showed strong with instincts that knew when they were confronted by a predator best fled from. The blood of the young bull- being was strong, though far weaker than that of Marcus Flavius Aquila, enough to be a temptation to those who took power from blood and death. Fortunately, for the ox standing before him, Esca was not one so inclined. He felt no craving for minotaur...or for the tentacled ones.  

" Where is your leader?"

"She awaits you inside, Lord." A bow of the head indicated the doorway. The single, crude scrap of hide that had formerly been the only thing available to protect such entrances had been re-replaced with the proper heavier, thicker, more resistant and resilient series of worked hangings who's shimmering and brightly colored materials slithered softly, the way snakeskin on dry leaves did, as he pushed past the protective folds.

He then there found a small number of individuals nearly crowded in the snug confines. Four ( one male, one female, one that was both, and one who was neither) were obscure entirely undefinable indefinite lumps pressed together in one indistinguishable clumping against the far wall. A less indecipherably shaped woman was covered from the top of her head to the soles of her slippers in some loosely draping black enshroudment that entirely hid her features behind layers of swathings. Another was garbed in something similar but simpler in a variety of greys with a veil of dense metal beading that left her eyes uncovered. Sharp contrasts to the cinched waist, bell-shaped tiered skirt, and fully exposed breasts of the Minoan lady that was also with them. These last three being of distant and far warmer lands were huddled together next to the heat of the fire-pit. And focused on watching the figures writhing around together on the sleeping pallet.

Two were long, lean-limbed women the first with skin like pitch and hair like coal and the second with hair as dark but with the contrast of also possessing milky-white flesh. They both held a buxom third woman pinned down between them underneath their own unclothed bodies, One dressed in the formal vestments of a wealthy Roman lady.

" They asked that I bless and watch over the consummations of their marriage." A calm voice reassured quietly easing his tension the moment it registered. More at ease now Esca moved foreword carefully stepping around, and even over, the oblivious mating party. For on the other side of the fire in the center of the hut stood the one who had spoken. A woman he recognized. She was a known and welcome friend of his since the starting out of this journey back to the north. Her staff was the black of char till partway up the top of the shaft where it began to flare out and became the brown of wood bark then in turn changed to glow in successive shades of umber, ruby, amber, and honey of a hearth fire and took the form of a lozenge-shaped flame carved from crystal. Her garments were a earthen brown and maroon tone, with interwoven symbols and designs in gray and black, to match and her red hair was as bright and firey as her golden eyes. She was Cottia. A spirit of the hearth and friend to him. A mortal ancestor of hers had given in to the charms of a minor Roman fire-being who'd been of a type associated with those of power who's authorities reigned over the domestic domain of the hearth and home. Esca had met her at some point in that hazy and frantic time between when he had destroyed the arena and when the rest of the city had fallen. She had been among those there who had been witness to the results of when the gladiator had stabbed though Esca's prone body nailing it to the ground underneath him. 

Down behind him cloth was loudly being ripped apart. A sharp startled cry broke into a airless sound that was swallowed under a steady rhythm.

"The Minoans have agreed to deliver the Roman prisoners."

"Good." Off of his lands and returned to where they came from was all he required.

 "You are aware of the old temple that is here?" She wordlessly offered him some bread as a act of familiar welcome and casual hospitality was a ritual between them.

" I know of it from when it was first built." With a gesture of thankful acceptance he snapped up a proffered treat in a manner she had once told him reminded her of the darting of a daring little bird...or a small child. The bread was fresh and warm. Cottia did not cook yet the food her fires assisted others to make were always the best they could be.

" Then you are aware of who might be there. Will they not interfere? When the Romans call on their aid?"

"Only if they perceive us as having done some wrong."

"Keep close watch on such as Liathan then."

He knew his face was telling her everything he thought about that unnecessary advice.

" He desires you."

" That is the least of the problems he causes."

" He imagines he has a claim to you. But you, your interest is now focused on your prize." She made a display out of looking behind him at the marriage acts still ongoing there. The Roman woman was a warprize  then. Either having sold herself or been sold as a bride. Likely for wealth and position under the new authorities. Whatever her former circumstances she was freely and enthusiastically embracing her new life. Marcus was another matter of Roman and the ways of Romans entirely though and would not take as well to being sacrificed to any but the glory of Rome.

" Do not expect me to show false surprise that you have already learned of the centurion's new circumstances."

" Naturally I know of it. You have never before taken a prize. In all the time history and people have spoken of you. That you have now is considered worth knowing. As is you reason in doing so."

" I do as I wish!"

"As you say Great Lord."

" I am not a god of this world! Do not call me as such!" She was his friend! How dare she accuse him of being such as them!

" No you are not. I like you as you are. Better as you are rather than having been lowered to be seen as like they are. I am as I am and to those I deem worthy of it I will freely show my proper respect. Allow me that."

"I can not stop you it seems."

" No you cannot. Or rather you will not for you are as you are as well. So you must suffer through my respect." She pause to scrutinize him more closely then sighed. "And also my care. Come and sit here. That needs to be tended to and the light is better by the fire."

He had hoped it had escaped her attention. "It does not. I am fully hale."

"You are trapped as a physical being. And you have a great hole in your chest." She glared at him then stabbed a commanding finger at him then pointed at the small stool next to her "Sit."

A fragile creature she was. A small and weak being when compared to any of the gods of the planet. Something that wouldn't even be noticed by the kinds of power that had wiped out his birth peoples. But something about the concern she showed for him made the bindings that held him fast to this world throb and ache in response. She was the only one, other than Cunoval, that he had felt this way about since he had been chained here....only Marcus caused a stronger pull.

Cottia muttered and hissed under her breath the whole while. First at the clothing he wore when it got in her way. And then at the new collection of scars he had received since the last they had seen eachother. The wound that so bothered her meant nothing to him. It would fully close eventually in time. A sword pirceing entirely through a physical body results in a lot of damage that had to be repaired and put back together. Magic could not heal it. Not his kind. Not here. Not the magic of this world. Like Marcus's leg they could only let it heal as much as it could all on its own.  

" Will the sacrifice of the Roman Centurion heal this?" She didn't even bother looking up from dabbing the foul smelling paste on the angry red mark.

"No." His chemistry make-up worked too differently.

"Then why waste him? You want him. Make him yours."

"He is mine already."

"You know that is not how I mean. Take him to your bed. He will be safe then."

"No he will not." Not from Esca's enemies. Nor from his allies. Even greater was the danger of Esca himself. And the Roman's own ways of honor and dishonor. No life could be less safe than Marcus' would be if Esca were to bed him.  Esca wasn't used to such vulnerability it was so different with Cunoval. Though he had been far younger than the fallen creature from the stars, Cunoval had cared for Esca in many ways that were very much like the manner in which  a father would a child. And in turn Esca had been as useless as a small child when it had come the time that Cunoval had in turn needed Esca's protection. The memory still pained as fiercely as ever tugging on his insides-

Tugging? No, that was wrong. The thought of Cunoval did not tug...

It came to him. Cold, sharp, and painful as being stabbed with a blade made from ice.

"Marcus!" He was only dimly aware of shoving away from Cottia's small hands and her startled cry or even that she followed him as he raced back to the fort.

The bright blue sky from bare moments before was now rolling with black clouds that boiled like soup too hot on a fire.

They were just passing through the gates when the ground at their feet gave a sudden heave and vibrated like a struck metal gong....

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I saw a really nice looking hanging lantern decoration that was black- to brown- to red- to orange- to yellow that reminded me of a candle-flame so I thought it an interesting look for the top of a magical staff. I like associating Cottia with the 'domestic' flame. Not because of any stupid belief about someone's 'place' in society, due to their gender or some such nonsense, but because she's 'fiery' but not harsh. And because this also went well with her parents being so into living 'The Roman Way'.  
> The Minoan Empire (named so in our modern history, because of their great apparent wealth, after the legendary King Minos) was centered(?) on the island of Crete and was a very rich and powerful nation during when the mountain Thera spectacularly blew it's volcanic lid causing mass devastation to the area sometime around 1300 B.C... So the heyday of their reign as major world power took place between the time of Atlantis (?-12000 B.C.E. ) And the rise of the Myceane( who's era ended when Troy fell around 1020 B.C.E. -ish which then lead to the Greek Dark Ages). They were possibly Matriarchal with priestesses and women strongly and more commonly holding the majority of the higher positions of authority and influences as well as a goddess as top deity. They were really into bulls ( and a sport that involved a guy jumping over one), octopi, snakes, dolphins, and infamous now for their woman sporting the bare-breasted look.  
> Symbolisms and actions mimicking a forced sex attempt in the movie's arena scene? I don't know what you mean. I was too busy admiring Jamie Bell...on the ground...naked chest heaving...with a pointy thing threatening to skewer him- ...oh. Heh.

**Author's Note:**

> Both Hepheastion and, less than a year later, Alexander allegedly died of illnesses ( according to some of the more numorous of the accounts I read). Typhoid Fever is a strong suspect in both cases. But so is poisoning. Personally I found arguments for them to have both gotten sick first and then been poisoned to fit the facts the best. A person wouldn't need to understand how something is contaminated/germ and bacteria-infested to know that certain water sources were deadly poisonous, especially to someone already ill, and water would be one of the easiest poisons to hide.  
> And also historically it looks like the worship of the god Mithras actually came to the Greco-Roman world from Babylon(?) via Alexander the Great's troupes!  
> Also, for those who may wonder about the inaccuracy of Marcus having and wearing that armor that in our RL history would be of too high a ranking for him to have and be only for extra special and formal occasions....uh, this is a very alternate version of ancient Rome in that sense( and in this world not putting Marcus in armor that is molded to and showcases his very nice looking body would probably be a sin *Blushes*)


End file.
